Rain
by DeeP ci
Summary: After a completely botched presentation, archaeologist Sam Manson finds herself caught in the pouring rain, where she has a not-so-chance encounter with a very sneaky rich woman.


Rain.

She didn't hate rain.

It's just that when she was seething with anger at her theories being completely written off – _dismissed entirely_ – in mere minutes, simply because she was a woman, she was in no mood to enjoy one of her favourite weather phenomenons.

Ok, so stating that the pyramids were built by aliens was a _little_ far-fetched. But it wasn't unfounded. If they had bothered to check the facts, then they wouldn't have dismissed her so easily!

Hell, she hadn't even brought it up this time!

But, no, hear one Manson theses, hear them all apparently! At least, hear the parts they wanted to hear which was, oh... _none of it!_

Either way, they'd been rudely dismissive of her theories and ideas since _long_ before she'd ever brought up the concept, and that was with the perfectly well-reasoned, well-known, and well-accepted statements any _guy_ could have pulled off without being ridiculed.

State your mind as a female, though... then the entire world shuts down around you and locks you out.

'_Bastards_,' she mentally hissed. '_Sexist, narrow-minded, b__astards__. Equal rights, my ass._'

Still bristling at the encounter, she noticed too late that she had been approached. "Dr Manson!" Startled by the 'sudden' appearance, she almost made a move to cripple him before he'd have had any idea what happened.

Fortunately, the movement was easy enough to cover up.

Sam stood up a little straighter than really necessary, eyes widening slightly in that "I'm really innocent. Really. Look at me. Don't I just exude innocence?" kind of way that every person seemed to have been born with an innate mastery of.

"Yes," she asked, trying to ease herself into a more comfortable position before anyone could take notice.

"Someone wants to speak with you," said the man, not taking any notice or simply ignoring her discomfort. It could have had something to do with his desire to be out of the deluging rain.

Cautious tension ran up her spine and across her shoulders. ".._Why_?"

"Could you step up to the car, please? Ma'am?"

Sam glanced at the vehicle again, then back at the man.

From what little she could see through the window, rain pretty much obscuring most of the finer details, the woman in the car was elderly and well dressed. Her white hair was short and curled, and she wore a golden amulet around her neck - though the rain pelting down on the glass window made it impossible to make out any details, Sam had no doubt that it was extravagantly engraved and had probably cost more than most people made in a year.

"We planning on going somewhere," the young archaeologist asked somewhat pointedly. It came out a little ruder than she had intended, but she figured that under the circumstances it wasn't completely unwarranted.

As suspicious as all this was, she was also getting more sodden by the second, and came upon her decision quickly. '_You know what_,' she thought grumpily. '_Screw it._'

Another man got out of the car as she approached and opened the door for her. The first one motioned to her bags. "You're gonna be fine, ma'am – we'll take care of these."

The car was dry inside, but she knew that with the state of her drenched outer coat that that wouldn't be the case for long. She frowned, running a bare hand over the seats. '_Wait... is this carpet? That's a bit... dated of them._'

The elderly woman was indeed well dressed, and a clearer glance at her amulet revealed that it was in fact made with truly remarkable craftsmanship, the central feature being a detailed (and accurate) engraving of the Eye of Ra.

The woman had a bland cream folder containing several papers and photographs on her lap. She leafed through it leisurely, showing no sign of even noticing Sam's presence.

Just when Sam was just about ready to announce herself, the woman decided to speak.

"Manson, are these your parents," asked the woman, holding out a photo that was almost as old as Sam herself. In it, a fair-haired man and a red-headded woman smiled a little too brightly as they held their young child.

"Call me Sam," she said instinctively. "And... no. They raised me... but they are _not_ my parents."

If the woman disapproved of Sam's harsh tone, she didn't show it, simply opting to returning the photo to somewhere in the folder.

She made no hints or attempts as to the reason _why_ exactly she'd decided she _needed_ to speak with Sam, Sam simply decided to just come on out with it. "Why exactly am I here?"

"Job," stated the woman. "Translating ancient Egyptian Hieroglyphs. Interested?"

If Sam wasn't suspicious before, she was definitely suspicious now. "...I think I'll be going now. Good talk."

The moment she put her hand on the door-handle, the woman spoke again. "Your grants have run out, you've been evicted from your apartment..."

Sam froze.

"I'm sure you could always fall back on your parent's money," amended the woman, "...but I think we both know you're to proud to fall back on that."

Sam was about to object, loudly, but she knew that every point the woman pulled up was completely true.

And then she went in for the kill. "...You want a chance to prove you theories right? _This_ is your chance."

The woman held out an envelope.

Sam took it.


End file.
